“The twins are volunteering at a summer day care center that serves low-income families,” Molly went on. “They work with the four-and five-year-old girls, supervising activities to jump-start them in math and science. They wanted to throw a party just for fun.”

“Princess party!” Pippi shrieked again, hopping up and down.

“I can’t tell you how glad I am you’re here,” Molly said. “Tess and Julie woke up with fevers this morning, so we’ve been a little frantic. Hannah’s going to help, but she gets emotionally involved, so she’s not entirely reliable. I tried to call Kevin and beg him to reconsider, but he and Dan have taken the boys somewhere and they’re not picking up. Wait till they hear who saved them.”

“My pleasure.” Heath projected such sincerity that Annabelle would have believed him if she hadn’t known better. No wonder he was so good at what he did.

They heard the sound of an engine and saw a yellow minibus approaching. Molly turned to the door. “Hannah, the girls are here!”

Seconds later, twelve-year-old Hannah Calebow emerged. Thin and awkward, she resembled her Aunt Molly more than her mother, Phoebe. Her light brown hair, expressive eyes and slightly asymmetrical features bore the promise of something more interesting than conventional prettiness when she grew older, although at this point it was hard to tell exactly what. “Hi, Annabelle,” she said as she came forward.

Annabelle returned the greeting, and Molly introduced Heath as the minibus stopped in front of the house. “Annabelle, why don’t you and Heath help Phoebe in the backyard while Hannah and I get the girls unloaded?”

“Maybe you should be a little careful around Mom,” Hannah said in a soft, anxious-to-please voice. “She’s in a bad mood because Andrew got into the cake this morning.”

“It just keeps getting better and better,” Heath muttered. And then he headed for the flagstone path that led around the side of the house. He walked so quickly that Annabelle had to trot to catch up with him.

“I guess I should apologize,” she said. “I’m afraid I might have let my—”

“Not one word,” he said on a single ominous note. “You screwed me over, and we don’t have a thing to say to each other.”

She hurried to his side. “I wasn’t trying to screw you over. I thought—”

“Save your breath. You wanted me to look stupid.”

She hoped that wasn’t true but suspected it might be. Not stupid, exactly. Just not so together. “You’re totally over-reacting.”

That was when the Python struck.

“You’re fired.”

She stumbled on one of the flagstones. There was no emotion in his voice, no expression of regret for good times and shared laughs, only a stony declaration.

“You can’t mean that.”

“Oh, I mean it, all right.”

“It’s a kids’ party! It’s no big deal.”

He walked away without another word.

She stood chilled and silent in the shadow of an old elm. She’d done it again. Once more, she’d let her impulsiveness lead her into disaster. She knew him well enough by now to understand how much he hated being put at a disadvantage. How could she have believed he’d find this amusing? Maybe she hadn’t. Maybe the person she’d really intended to sabotage was herself.